Holy Mary climbed the hill to fetch a pail of water.
I am filled with the sudden urge to write and draw a picture book about the angel Presbyopael who's never seen the big deal about being an angel and therefore "close to the countenance of God", because frankly the "countenance of God" is just a big boring indistinct blur of light, until she gets summoned to Earth by an Elizabethan scientist/magician, and while helping him out with his experiments, discovers the power of corrective lenses.
Fortunately, I have *way* too much other stuff on my plate to actually do it. . . I think.
Fortunately, I have *way* too much other stuff on my plate to actually do it. . . I think.

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